


Getting Foxy

by fantasticallyobscure



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Dialogue Heavy, Fluff, Humor, Knotting, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Rimming, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Smut, Very Married Bickering, borderline crack?, crowley is still crowley but he's been turned into a fox, pseudo-bestiality, yes they have sex because aziraphale is a kinky bastard angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:28:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27107239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantasticallyobscure/pseuds/fantasticallyobscure
Summary: Crowley offends a fellow demon and gets cursed into the form of a fox. Aziraphale isn’t a lot of help but they enjoy themselves anyway.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 72
Collections: The Ineffable Con 2





	Getting Foxy

**Author's Note:**

> I have very little excuse for this except thoughts after a conversation about the animated Robin Hood got out of hand. 
> 
> Content Warning: Pseudo-Bestiality (Crowley is still Crowley, but in the form of a fox)

Well this was new.

Sometimes Crowley did wonder if his existence was some sort of bizarre experiment in the limits of possibility. 

This being approximately case number 3468 (not counting that incident with the sheep herding in 640 CE, of which he _did not speak_ and was still not entirely convinced _actually_ happened). He did acknowledge (silently, privately, somewhere in the recesses of his mind) that the number of cases would probably have been halved if he had kept his gob shut. 

Take this instance, for example. Some low-level succubus pops up in the neighbourhood, kitted out with poky little furry ears and enough straps and buckles to make the whole endeavour sound exhausting. Crowley gently and charmingly tells them to bugger off, perhaps - _perhaps!_ \- smirking over the phrase ‘foxy lady’, and finds himself hit with some ridiculous bit of magic he’d never even thought of blocking against.

Thus, his current predicament. 

He had caught a glimpse of himself in some windows on the way back to Aziraphale. He was still reassuringly red-haired and that was…probably the best that could be said about it. Darker, more vibrant than a ‘natural’ specimen would have been. (Again, probably. It wasn’t like he went around studying the bloody things). His eyes were the same, which frankly was just fucking weird, and it seemed he was doomed to look scrawny and sort of _wiggly_ in any form he ended up in. He had enough power to keep people from looking at him too hard as he slunk back to the bookshop and the door helpfully opened for him. (And thank Someone. He _really_ hadn’t been looking forward to yelling - howling? - up at the bedroom window.)

So now he stood observing his angel, exactly as he’d left him, at rather a new angle. From four fucking paws on the fucking floor.

It was killing him. There lay Aziraphale, stretched languidly out on his stomach on the bed, just as naked as Crowley had left him after a bout of good old-fashioned Effort-making. He looked like a bloody painting, the bastard.

He tried a gentle cough and it came out as a weird whining noise. Please G- S- _Someone_ let him still be able to speak.

“Az- Aziraphale!” Not loud enough, but at least he could talk.

“ _Aziraphale!_ ” He poked out with one ha- _paw_ \- and promptly toppled over with a _thump!_ Crowley had always been of the opinion that two was too many legs to be in charge of. Four was just asking for trouble.

The angel on the bed snuffled and stirred and sat up, bewildered.

“… _Crowley_?!”

Crowley managed to stick his head out from the tangle of limbs.

“How’d you guess, angel?”

“What- how? … Do you realise you are currently a-“

“A bloody _fox_?! It hadn’t actually escaped my notice!”

Aziraphale pouted. “Well there’s no need to shout at _me_.”

“You’d shout too if you suddenly had four legs and a tail!”

Aziraphale peered down calmly and made some sort of ridiculous cooing noise. “Oh yes! And a beautiful bushy tail it is my dear.”

Crowley made several garbled attempts at a response. Finally, in what was _absolutely not_ akin to a whine, pleaded: “ _Aziraphale_.” The angel let out a sigh and patted the bed beside him.

“Alright, up you come and let’s have a look at you.”

“Hey, I’m the one going through the ordeal here, why can’t you come down to me?”

“You are on the floor, dear. I am in a bed. And I’m quite comfortable.”

Right, well, apparently he wasn’t winning this one. He made a valiant attempt to roll his eyes and cursed his weakness for bastard angels (well, one bastard angel, anyway). Actually getting up on the bed took a few goes - four is _definitely_ too many limbs - and of course a certain angel made precisely no effort to assist.

“Up you come, there’s a lad.”

Having hauled himself up to sprawl across Aziraphale’s legs, Crowley attempted to convey appropriately demonic displeasure, which in this form sounded a bit like he was hacking on something stuck in his throat.

“Don’t speak to me like I’m a bloody pet!”

“Oh? I was under the impression you rather enjoyed that sort of thing.”

Crowley let out a noise of exasperation that turned into a kind of bark at the end, startling him and sending him cross-eyed in an attempt to look at his own snout. Aziraphale all but collapsed into a pile of giggles.

“Oh my dear you do look silly! _Aarff!_ ” 

“I’m not a fucking dog, angel!”

“No of course not, you’re a sly little fox - and how appropriate, hmm?” The giggles had faded into the occasional hiccup. Damn twinkly-eyed bastard. Crowley let out an accidental whine (honestly, hissing was so much less embarrassing than this crap).

“Alright, alright. I assume you can’t change yourself back?”

“No, I just fancied a stroll through half of London like this - thought I’d surprise you - _hey look! Not a snake!_ ”

Aziraphale reached out and began to brush soft, manicured hands through the fur around his neck, and oh…oh that was…distracting…

“That’s quite enough. My goodness you are soft aren’t you? Well, let me try then.”

A snap. Nothing. 

“Try again.” 

Aziraphale frowned, snapped his fingers with (unnecessary) gusto. Still nothing.

“Hmm.”

“ _Hmm?!_ ”

“Calm down, Crowley. Now, are you in any pain?”

“-”

“ _Crowley!_ ”

“No, I’m not in pain.”

“Thank you. Honestly, it’s like pulling teeth sometimes. Alright, so these kinds of curses usually have a time limit or some sort of task that breaks them.”

“Fucking tickety boo.”

“Oh don’t get into a snit.” Before Crowley could express exactly what he thought of this, Aziraphale had hauled him to lie beside - well, almost on top of - him on the bed. There was a little _fizz_ at being manhandled by his naked angel and Crowley sternly told his new body not to get any _ideas_.

“There we are, now try to relax a bit, darling. I’m not reading anything particularly malevolent from the magic on you.” He began to stroke along Crowley’s spine in long sweeps, and it was becoming harder to remember why he was in a ‘snit’ in the first place.

“How did it happen then?”

_Words. Words. Need them._

“Succubus. Made a joke, didn’t find it funny.” Crowley leaned a bit more into the petting. “Nobody ever appreciated my humour Downstairs,” he mumbled.

“Cretins,” Aziraphale murmured back with a smile. “Wait- a _succubus_? What were you doing with a succubus?”

“Asking for tips. For fuck’s sake, Aziraphale, they were just in the area.”

“Well I suppose it is Soho.”

The petting and the warmth of the angel’s body against his fur was rapidly lulling Crowley to sleep. He snuffled in closer, finding that the four limbs actually tucked themselves up quite neatly. Eh, they could figure it out after a nap.

“You are so delightfully soft.”

“Mmm. Keep going.”

His nose was tucked into Aziraphale’s neck. His sense of smell was heightened in this form, just like the snake except the tongue didn’t need to get involved. He flicked it out a couple of times on instinct anyway and the angel squirmed. He murmured an apology and focused on the fingers running through his fur - it was like hair petting except all over. The sweet, sleep-warm smell of his angel and the tang of their earlier exertions still on his skin. And something else…

“Crowley…” A warm body curled closer around him. He let out a happy sigh and another instinctive flicker of tongue. Aziraphale made a noise in his throat and wriggled against him. That scent became stronger, warm and musky, and - _oh hang on_. Crowley curled the lower half of his body closer, closer…there. 

“Angel.” 

Oh, he was enjoying this. 

“Are you actually turned on right now?” _Hilarious! That little deviant._

Aziraphale turned his face into the pillow.

“I can’t help it! It’s you! You’re so warm and soft and you still smell like you…”

Crowley poked him. 

“Oi. Quit that. It is me.”

Aziraphale still wouldn’t face him. Right then. The sleepiness was wearing off. Time for another prod-the-angel-into-accepting-his-desires manoeuvre. He flicked his tongue out, this time letting it trail along the angel’s neck a little. _Mmm tasty angel_.

Crowley wriggled around on the bed until he could see what he was working with. His angel, spread deliciously across the sheets, flushed and hiding but his cock was standing firm, twitching on his soft stomach. _Beautiful_. He nosed across Aziraphale’s chest, his muzzle soft and a little ticklish, prompting little whimpers and wriggles from the angel. Down, down, he went, nuzzling a path to softly padded hips. The scent of arousal was stronger there, making his mouth water. He licked across those thighs that continued to drive him out of his demonic mind even after 6000 years, relishing the little twitches. _Come on angel, give in._

When he first licked across Aziraphale’s balls he got a response.

“ _Crowley!_ ”

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, still nuzzling the softly furred flesh. The angel opened his mouth but said nothing. Crowley grinned. He had no idea what it looked like in this form, but the way Aziraphale’s eyes opened wide wasn’t a bad sign. _Better go for it before he starts thinking again_.

He licked a stripe up the length of the angel’s hard cock, lingering at the tip to watch expressions flit across his face. Aziraphale threw his head back as a pulse of fluid dripped from his twitching length. Crowley happily licked it up. He couldn’t suck like this but he licked and nuzzled until Aziraphale was gasping and gripping the pillow hard enough to rip. Crowley stopped.

“Wha-“

“Turn over.” 

Aziraphale met his eyes and apparently didn’t need told twice before he scrambled onto all fours. Crowley had been convinced for several millennia that Aziraphale had been formed with the most delicious peach of an ass in all of Creation for the sole purpose of tormenting one hapless demon. He still stood by this assertion, except now he could _actually touch_ this pinnacle of corporeal posteriors, and that meant sometimes the tormenting was on the other foot.

As it turned out, a snout was actually quite good for this. Long and thin and easy to get smushed between those perfect cheeks - the angel obligingly held himself open once he caught on to the fact that he was getting a good licking. And by Someone, the _noises_. As Crowley began to fuck him on his rough tongue, Aziraphale babbled and wailed into the pillow.

“Pl- _please_!”

Oh good, they’d reached the begging stage. Crowley realised he was actually humping the sheets - he hadn’t even noticed when he’d gotten aroused being so focused on eating his angel out like one of those little dessert pots where you have to stick your tongue in to get it all. He glanced down. Well, that was a bit funny looking, but he supposed not so much as being a snake. A tiny corner of his brain that wasn’t taken up by _Aziraphale-fuck_ noted that his life was fucking weird. Even for a demon. 

Apparently he had zoned out for too long, because an impatient-looking Aziraphale was looking back at him, wild-eyed and even wilder-haired.

“Will you get on with it?!”

“Uhh…”

“Fuck. Me. You. Idiot.”

He looked down at himself again. Something seemed to be swelling a bit? He never thought he’d wish he knew what fox dicks were meant to look like.

“Are you…sure?”

Aziraphale glared at him. Glanced downwards. Snapped his fingers.

“Crowley. Get in me. Now.”

Well, the moral dilemma hadn’t lasted long. _Once more into the breach…_ He hoped this wasn’t about to go horribly wrong. But he had an angel to satisfy (and his own weird fox-cock, which was actually feeling a bit urgent about things now). Aziraphale had taken care of the necessaries, so he made to climb on top to slide in. Thankfully Aziraphale had turned back round because honestly, this was embarrassing. _Fucking. Limbs_. That tiny corner of his brain was politely mentioning that he was _literally mounting_ the love of his life. The rest just gestured at the sight of Aziraphale’s ass waiting for him, and the tiny corner conceded the point.

Aziraphale groaned and thrust back as he entered his tight hole.

“Greedy.” _Ohhh_ this was not going to be a long process.

“More,” Aziraphale grunted, proving his point.

It took a few shifts and wriggles to stabilise but then - _fucking bliss_ \- he was pounding into the angel frantically, nuzzling the scent on the back of his neck. Aziraphale’s moans were approaching a frequency only dogs - _ha!_ \- could hear, and was it getting tighter? 

“Oh god, oh god, oh _god_ …” Blasphemy. The angel was close.

The grip around his cock was becoming almost-painful and he needed to come _now_.

“Angel- _angel_ \- I’m gonna-”

“Yes!” Aziraphale reached beneath himself to stroke his own cock, crying aloud after only a few thrusts as he spattered the sheets. The squeeze sent Crowley cross-eyed as he thrust deeply and his brain went white as he came.

When he became aware of the room again, he was still on top of Aziraphale, who was wriggling happily. _Damn hedonist_. He moved to try and flop to the side. They both let out a yelp.

“ _What?!_ ”

“ _Ow ow ow-_ “

“Um…”

A beat of silence.

“Crowley? Are you…stuck?”

“Yup.”

A quick unpleasant tug confirmed that yes, in fact, his weird fox-cock was still stuck inside.

“Oh. Is this…normal?”

“How the Heaven should I know?! I’m usually a fucking snake!”

Aziraphale gave another wriggle. Oh, and that wasn’t painful this time, in fact it was rather…nice… _oh god_.

“ _Nnnnnnnnnn_.”

They shuffled a bit until Crowley was a bit of an oddly-shaped big spoon.

“Well, I think this is as comfortable as we’re going to get. I don’t suppose you can guess how long this will take? I rather wanted a cup of tea.”

“ _Nnnnnnnn_. If you had a phone you could look it up.”

“Well, where is your telephone then?”

“Aziraphale. Does it look like I have pockets?!”

“…You do have a point.”

After an indeterminable time during which Crowley felt balanced between strangely prolonged, over-sensitive pleasure, and the comfort of being in bed with his angel sending him off to sleep, Aziraphale piped up again.

“It’s rather cosy actually.”

He laughed into Aziraphale’s warm skin and heard an answering chuckle. He snuggled closer.

“You owe me breakfast for this, you know.” The angel’s voice had a smile in it.

“Yes. Because you got absolutely nothing out of it.”

“ _I_ am putting up with your knot up my rear instead of having a nice post-coital tea.”

“I’ll put a knot in your ear if you say ‘post-coital tea’ again. Go to sleep angel.”

The angel did, eventually, but the fox-shaped demon did first.

___

The next morning, back on two legs (which he was _never_ going to complain about again), Crowley bought breakfast. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on twitter @ObscureEthereal.
> 
> Kudos and comments much appreciated!


End file.
